In Quaestione Versare
by Kansas and Cap Girl
Summary: "He knows what I'm wearing." A CJ/Simon post- We Killed Yamamoto series written by Kansas J Miller & Cappuccino Girl.


In Quaestione Versare

Chapter One 

Genre: Drama. CJ/Simon.

Authors: Cappuccino Girl & Kansas J. Miller

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Honestly. What do you think?

Notes: Takes place after We Killed Yamamoto,  ignoring the finale.  Any Similarity of events is due to the fact that some of the plot was mentioned prior to Posse Comitatus.

So, I guess we emailed, and then we chatted, and then we wrote. Yeah, that's about it. We're usually more articulate that this, I assure you :-) 

Summary: He knows what I'm wearing.

The angry sound of her heels hitting the floor announced her mood to all she passed on her way towards her office. CJ half expected Simon to be absent from his usual place; inside she wished he would be too embarrassed to meet her with his typical smile and  'good morning'.  
  
 She was still seething over the events of last night. She'd been charming, polite. Dammit she'd even worn her special  perfume and gotten so close to him that he must have noticed and still, he'd balked at her kiss. Some ridiculous excuse, as though all they'd already done could be ignored.  Swooping past Carol's desk, collecting a stack of papers as she went, CJ saw his familiar figure at the doorway.

"Simon," she stated with a smirk, chucking the briefcase and thin overcoat onto the sofa in her office. He nodded with a smile as he told the phone that he had Flamingo, and she was convinced he'd put added emphasis on her code name this time. 

  
"'Morning." Simon greeted her with a cheery smile, and when CJ stared him down for an endless second, all the agent could muster up was a confused, "What?"   
  


Pushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear, CJ pointedly looked past the tall agent to where Carol stood. "You're late. You're briefing in a couple minutes," her assistant told her.

  
"Shit," CJ muttered, practically pushing Simon aside to get the prepared notes from Carol. "Give me ten."   
  
"Should be an easy briefing. We've got the play tonight," Carol called as she went back to her area. CJ rolled her eyes, wondering whether her superior skills at multi-tasking included preparing for briefings while bitching at Secret Service Agents.  
  
 Simon followed her back into the office. "What?" he asked again, shaking his head with annoyed bewilderment.   
  
"Oh," CJ replied with a slightly bitter chuckle in her voice, "if you think I'm going to be yanked around like you did last night."   
  
  Simon stepped back, accused and amused. "What?" he demanded, shaking his head again. "I mean, excuse me?"  
  
"Don't play dumb with me, Agent Donovan," CJ shot, collecting her notes into one large pile, quickly and forcefully shoving them into a manila folder. She began to walk around her desk, heading for the briefing room-how had she managed to be this late?   
  
 Simon's hand  grasped her arm. It was faintly exciting when he tried to be controlling,  when held onto her like that and called her Ms. Cregg.  She  finally acknowledged his presence with an upward glance and found his brow laden with attitude. "I have no idea why you're pissed off, but I guess I never really do-"   
  
 "I don't like being led on," she spat as she began her trip towards the briefing room, purposely walking faster than she hoped Simon could keep up with.  
  
He was right beside her. "If anything, I'd say it was you leading me on, CJ"  
  
"Fuck off," CJ muttered, her hand on the briefing room doorknob. " Just forget it, already," she exclaimed, her mood worsening as Simon's own hand prevented the door from opening.  
  
"You're mad because we didn't kiss last night," Simon stated, a grin threatening at the sides of his lips, despite the anger painted over CJ's face. She said nothing, only pushed his hand away from the doorknob with an exuberant amount of disgust. She was incredibly sexy when she was angry, he realized, incredibly sexy.  
  
"We were on the sidewalk!" he called humorously after her. It didn't mean he didn't want her,  and somehow he assumed she knew. She watched him while he found his way to the back of the pressroom.

~* *~  
  
CJ had been silent all morning, though Simon's constant presence was beginning to wear away her attitude. He seemed completely unfazed by CJ's mood. He understood why she was annoyed, found it almost amusing, and as he watched her work, a loose plan was developing in his mind.   
  
He understood how she could have viewed his behavior last night as a brush-off, even though he's always intended for it to be a show of  good manners. In reality, the only thing that had been on Simon's mind was CJ's lips. Her proximity was unbelievably dizzying. Still, the agent in him had remembered the tail car following them and Pam Thayer waiting on the apartment steps. Kissing her in such a visible situation was irresponsible. In fact, kissing her, period, was irresponsible and career suicide for the both of them.  But she was so damn irresistible and fuck the rules-He was going to kiss CJ until they had to stop for lack of breath. He'd prove to her that had never led her on, but rather the reverse.    
  
"Let's go," she said coolly, cocking her head at Simon as she brushed past him into the hallway.   
  
He hovered behind her.  "Where are we going?"   
  
"Home. I need to get dressed for the thing tonight," she informed him, working hard to keep the detachment in her voice as Simon's cologne wafted around her, making it impossible to ignore his presence.  

  
"Are you going to let me use the car?" Simon asked with a slight tease in his voice. She only chuckled as he ushered her through the security gate in the lobby, shivering at his slight touch on the small of her back, and when he settled next to her in  the black suburban, she wondered why  his hand on her knee had such a strong affect on her heart rate.   
  
***   
  
"Simon!" she cried, rolling her eyes as the tall, handsome man slipped past her bedroom door. "I'm trying to get dressed."   
  
"I know," he chuckled, handing her the phone. "But you have a call. Can't wait, apparently. "   
  
In only her blouse and panties, CJ took the receiver from him with a wary glance. His eyes never moved. He'd mentally undressed her before, but there was less effort involved this time, and his eyes never moved from her body while she spoke. Her sentences to Leo were unclear and had no point to them and the he fact that Simon was watching unsettled and aroused her at the same time, causing her to shift her weight from time to time. She wondered why he hadn't left the room yet, and more importantly, how long he was planning to stay. 

  
Simon bit his lip as she  turned her back to him-the un-tucked blouse barely covered her ass, and with her mile-long legs in full view. As CJ's voice murmured on, he grinned almost wickedly and took a few steps towards her, not sure he could wait much longer to touch her.   
  
"Leo, I have to go," she practically gasped into the phone as she felt his hand snake around her waist and dance its way up to her breast. "I'll see you on the plane." Hanging up the phone and tossing the cordless unit onto the bed CJ spun around, wide-eyed. "What's this?" she managed to ask before Simon sealed his lips over her own.   
  
He kissed her firmly, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he pulled her body into his, and he hoped CJ could feel what an effect she had on his body. She reciprocated, sliding her hands under his shirt, expertly undoing buttons as she went. There was no tenderness, just intensity as he flung her onto the bed, removed her blouse, and rained kisses all over her body. 

She shifted slightly. "We have to move this," she gasped, tugging at the black dress beneath her.

 He yanked it out from under her and it  fell to the floor with swish. He'd wanted all of her from the moment he'd met her. The waiting had been unbearable, and once she was lying before him, sultry expression on her face, she was even more irresistible than he had ever dreamed possible. She sighed, teasing the remainder of Simon's clothes from him and chucked them to the side of the bed. His boxer's landed on the desk lamp, but no one noticed.  Her lips met his once more, and it was earnest, almost tender as his fingers traced patterns up her thighs. She tossed her head back, blue eyes shining, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  Kissing his shoulders, they continued their dance for control that would eventually end in release and tangled limbs.  
  


~* *~

CJ wasn't fully convinced that she would like the play. She always an appreciation for the arts, but some things did elude her, like paints with elephant dung and photographs of fabric draped over houses, and even five hours of Shakespeare-gone-musical

As she walked outside, she could feel Simon's eyes on her, and suddenly she wasn't cold any longer. CJ hoped he didn't stare up any pretty girls while he stood in front of the theater. She'd worn this black dress for him and him alone; her account was in the red because of it.

"I'm walking," she stated when she reached him, marking out her independence with two words. 

It was late and rather than argue he complied, a nod.  They walked side by side, she on the left and  he on the right, and he never had to tell her to be on the side farthest from the road.  

He observed the street from the corner of his eye.  Nothing caught his eye but her.

They turned right, past buildings she remembered from visits to Toby and Andi nine years ago, and there was still that crack in the sidewalk. She tripped on it, swore at her shoes. He smiled. 

"Think anyone's watching?" she asked, making a show of looking around.

"I thought observing was my job," he remarked.

"And you do it so well." 

She moved closer, so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. It smelt faintly of peppermints.  His hand touched her shoulder. 

They leaned in towards each other and her eyes focused on Simon's. Just as she was contemplating that he was probably the most handsome man she'd ever seen, her cell phone rang. Sighing sharply and turning her eyes skyward, CJ knew she had to answer it.

She flipped the phone open, bringing it to her ear. "Hello."

"Hello Darling."

"Hello. Who is this?"

 It was silent. 

"Is anyone there?" CJ asked, and upon receiving a response, she pulled the phone away from her ear as though it were a time bomb.

"What?" Simon inquired.

"It's.. He knows what I'm wearing."

He wrapped his arm around her. "Keep talking to him."

"Why?" she whispered, almost alarmed at the thought.   
  
"Just keep talking, okay?" He ordered, fishing in the tux's pocket for his own cell phone.

She complied, watched anxiously while he made a call.

"Dan, I need a trace on Flamingo's phone. And get me a car. Now."

"Yeah, we're on it already," he was told.

He urged her to walk on, and  with each passing step her brave exterior seemed to crumble. Simon's head shot from side to side as they walked, his mind reeling. They train you, he thought, they train to know what to look for-to know why people stalk, to know personalities, to know profiles. But nothing prepares you for the affect it all has on the victim. He hadn't thought of CJ as one because she was too talented; she hid her fear so well. Until, Simon realized, this moment.

"He… He hung up," she told him quietly, shaking hands returning the phone to her jacket pocket.. 

Fuck, I doubt we'll have enough-" 

The car pulled up then, and without thinking he flung CJ inside.   
  
Her panicked, wide eyes looked pleadingly back at him, but Simon shook his head. "I have to stay."   
  
He slammed the door shut, smacked the top of the car, and as the wheels spun off down the road, CJ shrunk into a corner of the Suburban.

~* *~

He made his check. Badge. Gun. Phone. Wire. All were with Simon as he marched down the street, the Suburban screeching away behind him. It always felt new and uncertain, though he'd been here a hundred times before. It was his choice and he had all the training he needed, yet Simon's heart still skipped a beat each time. He felt his feet thud loudly down the sidewalk as he communicated via the wire.

"Fuck! No lead? Was it a land line or a cell? Or local?" Simon paused to check   
the traffic before running across the road. "Had to be, he knew what she was wearing. Look, can I get someone else out here? Fuck knows where this guy is, and I have no plans on hanging around here alone."

He paused by the drug store to gather his jumbled thoughts, again speaking into the wire. "Has Chris got anything more from profiling yet?" He sighed at the answer. "Oh Jesus, you'd think they could come up with more than that wouldn't you? I could have told them that. In fact I think anyone who watches Cops could have told them that." 

  
A couple was sitting on the bench near where Simon had stopped, and as they kissed, he wondered if he and CJ would ever spend a relaxed evening together. Before his thoughts could get too complicated, Jasmine appeared.

"Simon," she called, walking quickly past him, forcing him to spin around to follow. 

  
"Jazz, no lead?" he asked, catching up easily.   
  
"They've got jackshit up there. Butterfield's pissed."   
  
"I'll bet," he agreed as they walked faster. "Flamingo's going back to the plane?" 

  
"Yes," the young agent said while listening to information on her wire. 

  
"Allan and Richter are waiting for further details." She paused, eyeing Simon with concern. "You get   
that too?"   
  
Simon nodded as they began to run. "Man seen using a payphone at the time just two streets down from the theater. Hung up and ran. 6 foot male. Blue trench-"   
  
"I got it Donovan. No need to repeat," Jasmine yelled, running slightly faster   
so she could keep up Simon's long stride. They darted down the crowded streets,   
locations constantly being given to them as they went.

"On 42nd ? You've got what?" Simon asked. Looking to the agent at his side, they locked eyes. "He's got a video camera… Yeah, I'm here with Jazz, we're coming onto 8th from 38th."   
  
"He's coming towards you guys," Jasmine and Simon were told over the wire. "The bus terminal at Port Authority-"

The woman reached subconsciously towards her side, checking that her gun was in place. Both of the agents' eyes were riveted to the street ahead, taking in every nuance of the block. It was slightly less crowded on 8th Avenue than it had been earlier in the evening, and Simon was grateful for the light that Times Square provided. He could see four more agents rushing around the corner, down 41st, going east away from the bus terminal. Simon picked up speed, Jasmine only a fraction behind him as they ran. 

"Donovan," one of the agents said when they had caught up. 

 "He just went down there," the other one said another one said, pointing down the narrower street. 

Simon's brow furrowed as sweat pearled on his forehead. "Let's go. Jazz, you   
stay to my left."

Seven black clad figures hurled across the stream of traffic causing cars to skid to a halt.  Simon's right hand was back, ready to draw his weapon should the need arise. Quickly turning his head, Simon signaled with his left hand as a man fitting the description shot down the alley.

"Stop! Federal Agent!"  

The man paid no heed, only darting further down the street. Simon was quick as he gained on the running suspect, and just when he thought he had him in reach, the block ended and the man shot down 7th Avenue.

Presumably due to stupidity, the man found himself faced with an oncoming team of five new agents.

"STOP!" And he spun sideways, coming to an abrupt halt between the two   
parties. "Put your hands up where we can see them!" Jasmine ordered, her voice low and threatening. "Lie down on the ground. Don't pull any shit with us, we're Secret Service." 

The man obliged, camcorder and wallet falling to the ground as he did so.  Simon and another agent walked closer once the suspect was face down. 

Kneeling down, Simon picked up the video camera. "What do you do with this?" he demanded. 

Jasmine pulled the now-handcuffed man up from the ground, and another two agents came to her aid, each firmly grasping one of his arms. The man looked baffled and afraid.

"Who do you film?" Simon barked, handing the camera off to an agent with a plastic bag.

"I- I don't use," the man said, his voice heavy with a foreign accent. 

"Don't you?" Simon prodded, his eyes narrowing. "Do you phone?"

The suspect stared blankly back at him as the agents continued to surround them in a tight ring. I in a strange moment of irony Simon's cell phone rang. He turned away and signaled the other agents to handle the situation.   
  
"Donovan," he spoke, his breathing labored from running. 

  
"Shit!" he exclaimed loudly, smacking the phone shut. The other agents turned their heads, still keeping close hold on the suspect.   
  
"Flamingo got another call," he announced.

~to be continued~


End file.
